But before his hand could make contact, a sharp voice cut through the corridor like glass.
"Take your hand off him."
Both Than and King froze, the words heavy, commanding, unmistakable.
King turned, startled, to find Win standing just a few steps behind them, his wallet in hand, but his eyes were locked on Than, dark and unyielding.
Than's hand hung awkwardly in the air before he quickly drew it back, murmuring, "I-I was just trying to help…"
Win didn't blink. "I said. Take. Your hand. Off."
Than froze, his hand retreating as if burned. He took an involuntary step back, gave a quick, formal bow to both men, and then turned and left. When his footsteps faded down the hall and he finally disappeared from sight, King realized his whole body was trembling. For a fleeting second, he had expected Win to lash out, to scold him or drag the tension into something worse. But instead, Win only glanced at him, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Let's go and eat," he said, his voice calm, almost gentle.
Staff murmured behind their hands as King and Win moved through the restaurant, but no one dared speak up. Win never seemed to notice or he didn't care. He carried himself through the room like a man who'd spent years learning to be unbothered by other people's looks.
At the table, Win skimmed the menu and ordered for both of them. Conversation between the two was measured; Win rarely joked, but when he did, the rare smile softened his whole face in a way King hadn't seen in days. They ate, spoke a little, and the lunch went by faster than King expected.
The drive back to the office was quiet. The rest of the day unfolded without incident, and when it finally ended it was a smooth day.
By the time they left the office, the day had narrowed and folded into evening. The drive home was quiet, the city lights threading a steady line at the edge of the windows.
Once they were back, both men showered separately. King lingered under the hot spray for a moment longer, letting the warmth sluice some of the tension away, then climbed into bed with the private relief of someone who had, for the first time in days, tasted normal.
He couldn't keep the relief to himself. He thumbed Charlotte's number and dialed.
"King? How are you?" Charlotte answered on the second ring, her voice bright even through the phone.
He told her everything: the confrontation at the office, Than's intervention, the awkward lunch, the way Win had warmed up toward him in a way that felt almost ordinary. As he spoke, the tightness in his chest eased.
When he finished, Charlotte made a sound that was equal parts exasperation and worry. "King, I get it… you chose to stay. But that doesn't mean you have to let him walk over you. You can live alone." Her tone softened. "You're stronger than you think."
King inhaled, then let out a short, tired laugh. "You don't understand, Char. I can't be alone. I tried. I…"
"No," Charlotte cut in, gently. You can," Charlotte insisted. "Win's presence makes you feel useless, like you need him for everything. But you don't. You can do this. It will take time, but you'll get through it."
King smiled at the phone. "You seriously don't have to worry. Win and I are on good terms now."
Charlotte wasn't convinced. "I know you won't follow my advice, but if you ever do decide to leave, tell me. I'll help you move. I'll help you pack."
"Okay," King said. He felt better after the conversation, buoyed by Charlotte's fierce loyalty even if he wasn't ready to act on it.
They talked on. When Charlotte asked about James, King admitted that James had called and texted earlier but he hadn't replied because Win had been watching his phone.
Charlotte snorted. "What a psychopath. If it weren't for you, King, I'd make sure he knew where he belongs, no matter how much money he has."
King laughed. "Could you really fight him?"
Charlotte laughed back. "I'm powerless. But I'd hire someone to do it for me if I had to. Make him pay for how he treats you."
They both laughed, the sound easing something between them. King tried to reassure her. "You have nothing to worry about. Win's not that bad."
"He is bad," Charlotte said bluntly. "You just can't see it because you're blinded by love."
"Okay, don't come at me now," King answered, playful despite the lingering worry.
After a little more small talk, they said goodnight. King hung up feeling a strange mix of comfort and unease, comfort from Charlotte's steadfastness, unease from knowing the fragile peace with Win would have to be rebuilt every day.
Just then, King stood up and quietly walked to Win's door. He knocked once, hesitated for a moment, then slowly pushed it open.
Win was already asleep when King stepped inside. The room was dim and quiet, his steady breathing the only sound filling the space. Careful not to disturb him, King padded softly across the floor and eased himself onto the bed.
He slid under the duvet, his heart thudding nervously, and instinctively shifted a little closer to Win's warmth. For a moment, he simply lay there, staring at the faint outline of Win's face in the dark, wishing he could melt into him the way he always used to.
But as he was about to rest against Win's chest, he suddenly remembered Win's words from the other night, that it should be the last time he ever came to sleep on him.
The memory stung. King froze, then quickly pulled back, lying stiffly on his side and staring up at the ceiling. He wanted so badly to feel the comfort of Win's heartbeat, but fear of overstepping kept him frozen in place.
Win, however, had noticed him from the moment he entered. Though his eyes remained closed, he was fully aware. For a while, he let the silence hang between them. Then, with one simple motion, Win reached out, pulled King firmly against his chest, and wrapped an arm around his waist. Without a word, he drifted back into sleep.
King's breath caught at the sudden closeness. It felt like punishment, every time he was this near to Win, his body reacted, heat curling low in his stomach, desire he could neither control nor confess. Still, he could not stand the thought of being apart.
So he closed his eyes, buried his face lightly against Win's chest, and after a long, shaky exhale, allowed sleep to claim him too.
*******************
Early in the morning, King was the first to wake. His eyes fluttered open, and the very first thing he saw was Win's face right beside him. The soft light that slipped in through the curtains made his features look even more striking, sharp yet calm, handsome in a way that left King's heart pounding harder than it should.
He lay there quietly, drinking in every detail, the curve of Win's lashes, the way his lips rested gently together, soft and unbothered. What King didn't know was that Win was already awake, keeping still, pretending to sleep, letting King watch him.
The longer King stared, the more his chest compressed. His body betrayed him, his morning arousal stirring until it became almost intolerable. He shifted slightly, but his gaze never left Win's lips, plump, soft, and tempting like something forbidden yet irresistible.
Don't do it, a voice whispered in his head. He just forgave you. Don't ruin this.
But another voice was louder, bolder. It's now or never. Take the risk.
His breath hitched. Slowly, almost cautiously, he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just a breath away from Win's. He froze, his heart racing so fast it hurt. For a second, he thought of pulling back. But then, with one sudden, desperate motion, he pressed his lips against Win's.
The moment their mouths touched, King's eyes widened in shock. He hadn't expected the rush of warmth that jolted through him, nor the fact that when he finally dared to open his eyes, Win's were already open.
Their gazes locked, King's lips still pressed against Win's, frozen in a moment that felt both hazardous and inevitable.